Mocha Tragedy
by KnucklePuck29
Summary: Emmett Bledsoe is having a REALLY bad day. Why? Well... ONE-SHOT


**Author's Note: This is just a quick one-shot I came up with. Emmett seems to be a pretty put-together guy, so I wanted to explore his reactions on a not-so-together day. Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Switched at Birth!_ I wish I did, though, so I could see the last episode now!**

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><p>The moment Emmett tripped down the stairs on his way to the door, he knew the day was going to be a total bust.<p>

He was late, having stopped to send a few texts to Bay and promise to see her after school. The hot water had run out during his shower, and he was sure his usual hair gel had corroded in its tube. His hair was sort of sticky, which was not the objective.

Melody popped her head in the bathroom to tell him to hurry up, giving him a look only a mother could manage. He pacified her, signing with one hand while brushing his teeth. That was one thing he liked about being deaf and using sign language: You could talk with your mouth full.

Once he was finished, he grabbed his backpack and took the stairs at a run. He was rewarded for his recklessness by his heel slipping on the third stair down, sending him skittering toward the first floor on his butt. He let out a pained grunt, grabbing onto the handrail to stop himself.

_Seriously? Like I need an ass bruise on top of everything else_.

Melody caught him as he limped over to the door, already preparing to yell at him.

"I just fell down the stairs, Mom. It's not like I jumped off a building," he said, cutting her off. "No Bay involved at all."

"I wasn't going to suggest that," Melody replied, looking ruefully at Emmett.

"Sure. I'm going to be late for school…," he said, walking backwards toward the door.

"Be careful. Obviously you're having one of those days."

"Way to jinx it."

Emmett jogged to his bike, thankful that Daphne had a car and could now drive herself to school. He'd been tardy five times that month, and he was close to a detention. His mom wouldn't be happy about that, and she'd probably blame _that_ on Bay too.

Grabbing his helmet and shoving it over his head, he tried to snap the clasp closed. The plastic broke off in his hand, effectively cutting the safety factor of the helmet in half. He wanted to bang his head on the handlebars, but he was still running insanely late. Besides, he didn't need a concussion on top of his butt bruise and wounded side.

This was so not his day. It was rare that two things went wrong with him so close together, and he was beginning to think that he should just stay in bed. He could be killed if this bad luck streak persisted, and he quite liked living. There were so many perks, like kissing Bay and hanging out with Daphne and eating pizza.

Once he was finally on the road, Emmett managed to forget his misfortunes. The wind in his jacket and the lines blurring beside him always calmed him down. The ride to Carlton wasn't long, but it was enough to clear his mind of anything but freedom.

Pulling into his usual parking spot, he took off his helmet and made sure everything was in place. There were still a few students milling around, which seemed like a good sign. Maybe he wasn't going to get that sixth tardy after all, which would salvage the morning.

He took his time crossing the parking lot, which probably wasn't the best idea, but he figured if there were other people around, he wasn't going to get in trouble. Unfortunately, the lights flashed for the bell just as he was walking through the main door of the school.

_Not my day_, he thought, sighing and heading for the front office. He would need a tardy slip now, and he didn't have a signed excuse from his mother. She'd be getting a call down in her office later, which would mean a long talk when he got home that afternoon.

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><p>At lunch, Emmett was nursing a cup of coffee he'd snuck from the teacher's lounge, obtained by using his mother's name at the door and insisting it was for her. He couldn't take another minute without caffeine and was starting to get jittery, which wasn't good.<p>

"Why are you drinking coffee at noon?" Daphne asked, putting her tray down before sitting.

"I'm suffering from withdrawal," he replied, slouching and taking another sip. "My day isn't turning out so well."

"What do you mean? You got an A on that test!"

"Yeah, but I've also fallen down the stairs, broken my helmet, been late for first period, gotten yelled at for texting in class—which everyone does—and shut my finger in my locker." He held up his bruised thumb, bending it experimentally. Yep, it still hurt.

"Wow, you _have_ had a bad day." Daphne stifled a laugh, which choked a smile out of him. It probably sounded funny to her, the girl who was switched at birth and had more problems than she could count on two hands.

"Yeah, well." He shrugged, attempting to rest his elbow on the table. Instead of sitting on the ledge, his arm slid off the edge in a jerky motion. His coffee tumbled out of his hand, managing to land right in his lap.

He bit his lip, cussing a blue streak in his head. _Why me? Crap, holy mother that is_ hot!

"Emmett?" Daphne asked, peering into his face. "Did you really just spill your coffee?"

Emmett nodded, unable to do anything but hold in the scream building in his throat. He hadn't screamed in years, and he wasn't going to start because of a little second-degree burn.

"Do you want to go see the nurse?"

"I just want to go home," he lamented, picking his cup up off the ground and wiping his hands on a napkin. His jeans were a lost cause, covered in mocha flavoring and syrup.

"We've only got three classes left. Don't you think you can stay?"

"You're saying that because you don't have pants that smell like hazelnut."

He wasn't going to say this to Daphne, but he had a suspicion he'd burned his balls a little. It didn't feel good, especially in conjunction with the eighty other injuries he'd sustained.

"Just stay. It's Friday, what more trouble could you get into?"

"Don't say that."

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><p>Emmett limped toward his bike after school let out, wincing every time he moved his left leg. How on earth had that basketball managed to hit him in the knee? He wasn't even playing! Ping pong was a limited-contact sport, which is why he chose it.<p>

He was supposed to meet Bay, but he was going to stop by his house and change into clean pants first.

_**I'll be over soon. Have to run home for something.**_ He sent the text, and then climbed on his bike gingerly.

It wasn't a good idea, but he sped home anyway. Ten miles over the speed limit wasn't a big deal, and he'd never gotten a ticket before. Obviously, he should have taken into account the kind of day he was having before revving his engine so much.

"Excuse me, sir, but do you know how fast you were going?" the police officer asked, after taking his license and registration.

"Forty-five," Emmett signed, shaking his head at his misfortune. He pointed to his ear, letting the cop know he couldn't hear him. This was the second time in less than two weeks he'd dealt with the cops, but the first time he'd gotten away.

"I'll just write your ticket, then." The policeman handed back his paperwork, then began filling out a speeding ticket. "You're lucky I'm not someone else. I might have taken your license."

_For what?_ Emmett thought, frowning. No one got their license taken away for going ten over. For being deaf, maybe, but not for going forty-five.

After he got his ticket, he went the speed limit the rest of the way to his house. He had a feeling he should just stay home, but Bay was expecting him. He was already much later than he'd intended to be, so he just sucked it up and changed clothes.

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><p>Pulling up to Bay's garage, Emmett hopped off the bike and hung his helmet from the handlebars. He had managed to get there without incident, so he was hoping the rest of the day would go a little better.<p>

"Where have _you_ been?" Bay asked when he came up behind her.

"Don't ask," he replied, shaking his head and puffing up his cheeks. He'd rather not explain anything to her, considering she only knew him as the cool, mysterious, artsy guy. Now he was the clumsy, jinxed guy with a black and blue ass and a bum knee.

"Okay," she said slowly, dragging out her 'o' in sign language like he'd taught her. He grinned, leaning in to give her a hug, and held her close.

"How was your day?" he asked when they parted, sitting in one of the chairs in the middle of the room.

"The usual, boring stuff. I'm sure you don't want to hear about Buckner." Bay smirked, settling down in the seat next to him. "So, are you sure you don't want to tell me what's up?"

"Yes." He felt a little guilty, watching her expression fall. Maybe she would want to hear about it, but he wasn't going to risk it. He'd done too much risking already.

"Are you hiding something?" she asked, signing what she could.

"No!" Emmett felt flustered, wondering where she'd gotten that from. "Why?"

"Daphne said some stuff happened at school, but she didn't say what. Is it something bad? Do I need to know?"

Daphne. Of course she'd told Bay something was up. She always wanted to let everyone know what was going on, as long as it didn't involve what she was going through with her parents. Emmett usually liked that about her, but right then he could have screamed. Again.

It was a screaming kind of day.

"I just hurt myself a lot. Not a big deal." He tried to play it off, making it seem like his knee wasn't throbbing and his legs still chafed where his pants rubbed his burn.

"Emmett, come on." Bay gave him one of her looks, the kind that said she knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Fine."

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><p>Emmett got up to his room and fell onto his bed, deciding that he was just going to sit there for the rest of the night. Nothing bad could happen if he sat very still and didn't touch anything. He wouldn't even do homework for fear of getting a paper cut.<p>

Okay, that's not why. He just hates homework.

His mom had accosted him upon entering the house, asking why his jeans smelled like coffee and wanting to know why he had changed clothes.

"I spilled coffee on myself at lunch," he told her, sighing heavily.

"Are you okay?" she asked, making a sympathetic face.

"Yeah, of course I am. I just wanted to change out of those clothes."

"I understand." She reached over and hugged him, managing to hit his knee as she pulled him close. He winced, but avoided letting her see his pain.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I…sort of got a speeding ticket this afternoon. I was just doing forty-five in a thirty-five zone, but I still got stopped. I'm sorry."

"Emmett! What were you thinking? You know the police are always out after school!" Melody shook her head, wondering if she should yell some more or just send him to bed.

"I'm going up to my room. I'll pay for the ticket, I promise." Emmett gave her another hug, and then he made his way up the stairs.

When Emmett was finally ready to go to sleep, he fell back onto his bed with a thump. His head struck the wall behind his mattress, echoing throughout the house and causing him to leap up. He could feel the goose egg forming under his hair already.

He wasn't even safe in his own bed.

What a day.

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><p><strong>Reviews are amazing!<strong>


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